


Blue [DRARRY]

by monochrome_dragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blue haired Draco Malfoy, M/M, Rebellious Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:22:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monochrome_dragons/pseuds/monochrome_dragons
Summary: Draco Malfoy has had quite enough of living up to his expected role. The Malfoy heir; the dragon; the platinum-haired Slytherin, rejected a handshake from famous Harry Potter.So, he's taking things into his own hands - and making a change.





	1. Prologue

Draco was pretty sure nobody else would be using the showers at 3am, but he fancied being safe rather than sorry, and had put up a silencing charm anyway. He wouldn't have really minded much if it hadn't blocked out the sound of the shower itself, as long as it erased the sound of his sobbing.

In truth, he felt pretty pathetic, the way he was holding himself, like he was broken; or how there seemed to be more tears on his cheeks than droplets from the shower water. How the shower was hot, burning his skin, turning his pasty Malfoy complexion a blotchy red, but he was filled with so much self-hatred, that he left it, absent-mindedly assuming he deserved it anyway. How he couldn't clear his mind of the memories of everything he'd ever done wrong from the moment of his birth.

That, of course, had been his first mistake. Being born at all. Or, at least, being born a Malfoy. But he had to admit that wasn't his fault. His fault laid within every moment since Potter rejected his handshake. Potter wasn't to blame; he was. God, he could see that now. He had been a bratty, prejudice, racist child, who's parents had been known to work for the wizard who killed his, and he'd had the audacity to ask Potter to be his friend, while insulting another entire family at the same time. And one that had shown Potter kindness at that. Really, what had he been expecting? If only he'd been nicer, to both Potter, and Weasley for that matter.

And of course, he'd only had to go and make things worse. Through petty bullying and show-off tendencies. But to also go as far as straight-up discrimination. Calling Granger a Mudblood - that was when he'd truly earned the Malfoy name... but lost any chance at redemption at the same time.

He was a sorry excuse for a person, and nobody knew that better than him. What's more, he knew he was the only one to blame.

However.

Didn't they say the first step to recovery was accepting that you have a problem? Well, couldn't the same be said for change? He accepted he'd done wrong - and lots of it. Could he now try to change?

Letting out a shaky breath, and wiping his eyes as he reached for the box he'd brought to the showers with him, Draco only hoped this could be the start.

But he had to stop crying. He didn't want this stuff going in his eyes...


	2. Chapter 1

"Merlin, don't be such a prat." Draco hissed to himself, tugging frustratedly at his hair.

It was soft - too soft - and his fingers simply slipped right through. He'd been hiding behind this stupid stature for the best part of ten minutes now. He'd miss breakfast at this rate, and he needed to make his entrance now. If he just turned up to lessons, by lunch news would have spread, and it wouldn't be shocking anymore, so much as it would be everybody craning to get a look at him.

He had to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, and steeling himself for the stares he was going to get, Draco ruffled his hair, shook himself a little, then reluctantly approached the great hall.

At first, nobody really noticed, and the chatter didn't even quieten. But Draco didn't pause at the entrance, walking straight in. It was the Slytherins who noticed first, their noise silencing as he approached the table, taking in his appearance. The way his trousers hung low on his hips, suggesting his belt lay forgotten in his dorm. The way his shirt had half-heartedly been tucked in, resulting in one half still hanging out. The way his tie hadn't quite been done properly, and was loose, giving an all round laid back aura. The way his robes had been left behind altogether. But most of all... the way his platinum blonde hair, usually slicked back to the point where it would barely budge if you touched it, was left to its own devices, curling at the base of his neck, and flopping unceremoniously into his eyes, slightly wavy. But on top of that... it was bright blue. More of a turquoise if you were going to be precise, but Draco knew the Slytherins weren't going to be. It wasn't green enough to be called green, so blue it was.

It was strange how much it suited the boy, not that anybody would admit that. This was going to be one of those topics that nobody in his own house spoke about, and the Gryffindors would probably keep quiet too. As for Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, they would likely just not care, and that was fine by Draco. In fact, he reckoned the sooner the stares stopped, the better. Of course it would take a while, but it would hopefully be worth the wait. He felt like Pansy Parkinson would spare him the spreading of gossip about it, if only to save her own skin. He didn't fancy himself likely to see much of her anymore.

If she remained how she'd always been, then he was fine by that.

He could only hope she'd leave him alone for now; Blaise too. He would have enough to deal with once Professor Snape-

"Mr. Malfoy," a voice drawled, and Draco sighed.

Think of the Devil? He must have upgraded.

Draco plastered on a wide, hopefully patronising grin, and turned on the bench to look up at his Head of House.

"Professor." He greeted silkily.

"I don't strive to cause many theatrics here, Malfoy, but are you really foolish enough to think I could let this," he gestured in borderline disgust to Draco's hair, "slide?"

"If course not, sir," Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "I did it anyway."

"My office," Snape snarled, "eight thirty. Don't be late and anger me more."

He didn't give the Slytherin boy chance to reply before stalking off.

Draco simply turned back and began to eat.

\---

Draco thought it was funny. How, if people had questions about someone - or for someone - they would never go to the person who could provide the most effective answers; the people said questions concerned. They would instead ask others, and take their guesswork, or partial answers as complete. By lunch, Draco wanted to scream. Yell that he'd be happy to answer any and questions, so long as they went to him first. So long as they believed the answers he would give. That was an entirely new request altogether however.

He'd heard a few whispers. Why had a Malfoy dyed his hair? Why blue? Was that intentional? Well thought out? Or just a random colour choice? Was he rebellion, and how serious of a rebellion was it? He'd heard a couple of seventh years on his way of the great hall after lunch. They were Ravenclaws, and he couldn't help but dislike them as soon as be heard them questioning each other in hushed voices on why the colour wasn't coming out when exposed to certain counter-charms. Draco seethed quietly to himself that they had no right to subject him to any magic without his consent, and the fact that they had tried to do as much proved that it had been a smart choice to use muggle hair dye. It had been easy to obtain, fairly easy to do, and saved him from the hassle of dealing with stupid Ravenclaw students, who apparently thought it was perfectly okay to mess with his personal choices, even if it meant violating him magically.

The nerve of some people.

None of this, of course, was said aloud. In fact, Draco pretended he hadn't heard them at all. Why cause more trouble? Besides, ha had enough of thag coming his way tonight when he went to see his godfather, who would surely have a lot to say. Draco hadn't even bothered to plan an excuse. What was the point? Snape would find a way to debunk it all. He wasn't actually sure which bothered him more. The fact that Snape seemed to be the only Professor bothered, or the fact that some of the Professors seemed to even appreciate his sudden change of demeanour literally overnight. But it wasn't anything particularly unexpected. He'd known from the beginning that this was going to be tough. Now it was just being proven.

When it came to lessons, it was different again. In some, he went completely ignored, which was fine by him. He spend these pleasantly peaceful moments doodling mostly. It calmed him, he found, which helped for those lessons in which a anything did was stare at him. They must have thought they were being subtle, but it would have been obvious even to someone trying not to pay attention. Draco could we with these lessons well enough by just simply getting on with his work, throwing his full attention into it. Or, in the cases where Potter was in his class, he could just focus his attention on him. Potter also seemed curious enough in Draco to stare, but he was much more subtle than the rest. Draco wouldn't have noticed it at all if it weren't for the fact that he was looking right back. Grey eyes met green on multiple occasions throughout the lessons he had with the Gryffindors, and he found that Potter was less capable of hiding embarrassment than he was. Potter quite suited a blush; much more so when it wasn't accompanied by a scowl. Draco had noticed immediately that it was missing, and despite himself, smiled at the progress. Therefore, he'd also ended up smiling at Potter himself. Thankfully, the Gryffindor had done nothing more than adopt a shocked look before turning back round in his seat. He hadn't looked at Draco since, and that was fine by him - he could stare at the back of his head in peace.

At eight twenty-nine that evening, Draco raised his fist to the door to Severus Snape's office, knocking loudly, and wishing for nothing more than to sink into the floor.

"Enter."


	3. Chapter 2

"Evening, Professor." Draco greeted as he entered the Potion Master's office.

The tone of voice he used did not make his anxiety known. In fact, Snape probably thought he sounded snarky. Any other professor would have taken points off him, but this was Professor Snape, and Draco was a Slytherin.

"Such formalities won't work on me Mr. Malfoy, as you well know."

Draco had to admit, being called 'Mr. Malfoy stung a little. But was it because of the name Malfoy, or because it was such an impersonal name from someone he was so close to most of the time? He didn't know. Either way, he would be wise to watch his tongue - Snape obviously wasn't in a good mood.

"Just thought I'd be polite."

"Well why don't you be polite, and tell me what, in Merlin's name, have you done to your hair?"

Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that he hadn't done anything in Merlin's name. That would only get him in more trouble. It was even harder to not simply day 'I dyed it', since Draco had thought it to be obvious. It took a lot of willpower not the blurt that one out.

"I'm... well, I-"

"Let me rephrase. I'm well aware of what you did. My question should be why did you do it?"

Draco bit his lip. This time, holding back what he wanted to say would be an insult to his entire reasoning. What could Snape do anyway? Tell his father? Well, good.

"Because fuck the Malfoy thing, that's why."

"What?" Snape narrowed his eyes, "What Malfoy thing?"

"All of it," Draco snapped, "the name, the traits, the ideals and opinions. The hair colour. Just... everything."

Snape started in on him after that.

"You have no choice which family you belong to Mr. Malfoy, whether you want one or not-"

"I know but-"

"-not that you should want a choice to rebel anyway. You belong to one of the most valued wizarding families-"

"I disagree-"

"-and you would do well to appreciate that. You're putting your entire worth on the line here-"

"That's not-"

"-and your father's too. Even something as simple as dyeing your hair could be mistaken for a full blown rebellion on your part-"

"Well, that's what-"

"-and it's in your best interests-"

"Yeah, right-"

"-that you don't let that get around."

"Or what?"

"Furthermore," Snape continued, completely ignoring Draco, "with current events as they are-"

"You mean Voldemort-"

"-do you really think it wise to leave behind the protection you have simply by having the name Malfoy-"

"You mean having a one way ticket to be-a-Death-Eater-or-die ville-"

"-just because of teenage angst? He'd have you killed, or your family killed, and you know he isn't against that. Lucius Malfoy is seen as a coward as it is already-"

"Because he is one-"

"-and if you desert him now-"

"Fuck you!" Draco finally roared, anger radiating from his body in waves at the fact that he'd been ignored in comparison with Snape's pathetic arguments.

"I beg your-"

"Fuck. You." Draco repeated, "You know less than you think you do about me. So does my father for that matter. Well, screw you both. I don't want to be a part of it, and I'm not going to be anymore. The blue hair is only the first change I'm making. I don't care what you, or my father, or Lord freakin' Voldemort thinks."

Snape was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes trained pointedly at Draco, who stood strong, his grey eyes blazing with anger, glaring back at him.

The potions master softened.

"You really mean that?"

"Obviously."

"Even if - when - it comes to cost your life."

"Especially then."

Snape visibly relaxed.

"What?" Draco snapped.

"Do what you need to do Draco. I'll do what I need to do. But watch yourself - there is something so much bigger going on here, but I can' t- and frankly won't - stop you."

"You... you won't?"

Snape shook his head, albeit with a small sigh, before giving a wave of dismissal. Draco paused for a moment, but turned to leave. If Snape was letting him leave, then he was absolutely going to go.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape called again when Draco was at the door, "It cannot be know to anybody else outside this room what was said, understand? I must keep up a façade that you have disappointed myself and your family. You must keep up a façade that you despise everything I stand for; perhaps as though I'm trying to force you to give up your endeavour. Do you understand?"

"Certainly." Draco replied blankly.

That wouldn't be a difficult feat.


	4. Chapter 3

Draco's next plan was truly heartbreaking. He almost didn't want to do it. But he knew he had to.

He was going to leave the Slytherin Quidditch team.

He'd really chosen the worst time to do it though. They had one more practise session, before a game eith Gryffindor. Draco's plan was simple. He was going to train badly. The captain would get annoyed, and if he trained badly enough, maybe cut him from the team completely, since they couldn't afford to lose this nexy game. The chances of this plan working was next to none of course, but that was fine because Draco actually really wanted to play, and therefore he preferred his back up plan anyway. He would still try to get kicked but if that proved unsuccessful, be would play the game to the best of his ability, though winning was unlikely because of Potter. Then he would quit. If he was questioned, he'd say that he bought himself in the team anyway, so it really shouldn't matter. But hopefully, if he played well, people would remember that he did also have talent.

When their team's final practise session finally rolled round, Draco was more sure about his plan than ever. He feigned zoning out. He purposefully missed the snitch when it was right in front of his nose. He even pretended to lose his balance on his broom a few times. He could see his team growing increasingly more pissed off with him, and he had to try really hard not to laugh. Once training finished, Draco pretended to try and slip off with the rest of the team, and pretended to be disappointed when Flint caught him.

"What the bloody Hell was wrong with you up there today?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do not play dumb with me Draco Malfoy. I swear, if you're that bad when we play the Gryffindors, for any reason other than you've been majorly hexed, you're gonna have Hellto pay. Understood?"

"Of course!" Draco replied cheerily, before walking away towards the changing rooms.

He even added a whistle to piss Flint off more. And it was safe to say it worked.

But when the game rolled round, Flint kept his insults to himself. Because Draco was radiating with burning determination, that seemed to rival the whole of Slytherin's team put together. They left him to his own devices, which before the game was simply sitting in a corner, doing last minute checks of his broom, and pushing bright hair out of his face.

Before long, they were called out onto the pitch, met by the usual unfair boos by 3/4 of the school. But Draco kept his expression calm and collected, determination still raging, but inner conflict invisible. He took to the air with his eyes anywhere but the surrounding crowds. Of course, their eyes were on him, even if Draco wishes they wouldn't be. He guessed he was easy to spot however. Maybe blue ahir was not the best choice.

No.

He was used to Quidditch stares, especially when it was Slytherin versus Gryffindor. It would be simply to pretend that's all they were, rather than question the choice he had been totally stuck to until this moment. If the school wanted to stare, then let them stare. Maybe that would work in his favour in the long run if he managed to play as well as he was hoping to.

As it happened, he did better.

Without the distraction of the crowds enticing him, Draco's attention remained completely on the game. To the point where he wasn't even paying attention to the score, which allowed for a pleasant surprise when he realised that Slytherin were in the lead. Of course, this was usually the point where Potter would catch the snitch and win the match anyway. Thay is, until, for the first time he could remember, Draco spotted the glint of gold before Potter, rather than becoming aware of it's appearance by the dash of scarlet. He checked where the Gryffindor was, almost unable to believe his luck when he saw he was too far away to really be paying attention, before shooting off.

It was a miracle. A miracle Draco thought would never happen. Ever. He almost didn't believe it when he felt his fingers clasp around the golden ball, and it took a moment before he could gather himself and before he could hold the snitch up, with a huge shout of, "yes!"

A moment of complete, stunned silence, and then uproar.

The Slytherins alone managed to cheer over the polite cheering from the other houses. Draco was crowded by his teammates, who tugged at his robes, ruffled his hair, knocking him this way and that in their overwhelming excitement.

In the ruckus, Draco managed to catch sight of Potter, who was hovering a little way away from the rest of his team, but clapping politely too. Draco couldn't help it, and shot him a huge grin, holding the snitch towards him in a way that not even oblivious Potter could mistake for being boastful. The Gryffindor gave a soft smile in return - one that looked truly genuine - and nodded to him. Draco grinned wider.

That night, despite trading celebrations for his bed, after telling Flint, in no uncertain terms, that that was his last game, Draco couldn't stop the grinning, his hands locked over his stomach, listening to his own heart, and soft breaths. He had not a care in the world in this brief moment.

He fell asleep to the far away sound of his housemates' celebrations, and thoughts of appreciation for nothing more than his flying abilities.


	5. Chapter 4

Draco always took care of his books. It was almost funny how many people thought that because he was rich enough to replace a book if it got so much as a crease, that he didn't think he needed to respect them. Those people couldn't be more wrong. True, a lot of his books were worn, but in the well-loved way, not because he hadn't looked after them. In fact, in all his life, there was only one book he'd ever purposefully vandalised, but it had been for a good cause.

He was hating being a Malfoy more and more with every passing day, but he had to admit, he'd had some perks over the years thanks to that name. For example, second year, when his father had oh-so-subtly slipped Tom Riddle's diary into Ginny Weasley's cauldron, Draco had slipped something else to another one of their Gryffindor group. It was true that Lucius hadn't exactly told Draco anything, but he'd had more of an idea about what was going to happen at Hogwarts than most students. That included the knowledge of who was going to be attacked. And, yes, maybe it had been a little threatening of him for the 'you'll be next mudblood' comment, but he hadn't been wrong. And if he hadn't ripped that page out of the book at Flourish and Botts and snuck it into Granger's bag, he had no doubts she'd have been the muggleborn to be found dead rather than only petrified. He was just glad she'd found it and started using that mirror; she was a little annoying, but she was a talented witch, anybody could see that. While he vaguely regretted ripping that page out, he admitted that a single page with the exact information she needed was much easier to smuggle to her than an entire book that she might just have disregarded. Especially when he couldn't have let anyone see him. If his father had, then that would be Hell for obvious reasons. If any of his peers had seen... well, no doubt they would trust him even less.

The point was, it was a very good thing that nobody had caught him.

Thankfully, he didnt have to worry about information on basiliks now. In fact, the book he was reading wasn't informational at all. It was mere fiction; a good choice for what he had hoped to be a relaxing evening. That, of course, was not what he got.

An unwanted distraction appeared just as he was relaxing, in the form of Pansy Parkinson. She did not look happy.

"We need to talk."

"What about?" Draco didn't even look up.

"Well, let's start with the hair."

"Honestly," Draco scoffed, "never heard of hair dye?"

"Why?"

"Because blonde is associated with my family, and I'd rather not be recognised as one of them, thank you very much."

Pansy scowled and plonked down on the sofa, but as far as possible away from him.

"What about your drama with Professor Snape? Care to explain that?"

"I told him to fuck off because he tried to 'talk sense' into me, and I wasn't having it. If you're asking about that because I lost us house points, then tough shit sweetheart. Prepare to lose more from him."

"And Quidditch? What's next Draco? Hanging out with mudbloods?"

Draco snapped his book shut, and stood, making Pansy jump. Turning to face her, grey eyes glaring, Draco couldn't help the anger burning bright and deep in his chest. How in Merlin's name had he managed to keep his sanity, spending so much time around her?

"Screw you Pansy. What I've done are my choices, my business. Not yours. You have nothing to do with it, no say, and certainly no way to change my mind. I'm done being the pathetic, racist, stereotypical Slytherin, you hear me? The term is muggleborn. Muggle. Born. Get that through your fucking head. Your attitude is vile, and believe me, I'm ashamed that I ever acted that way. I want nothing to do with you." He made towards his dorm, before pausing at the foot of the stairwell, and turning back, "And that goes for everyone else who's stuck in their prejudice pureblood ways."

\---

The next morning, at breakfast, Draco was left alone by his former frends when he took a seat at the very end of the table, picking at his food as he continued with his book. He paused in his reading when a few figures stopped beside him, and looked up, preparing to snap. He stopped when he saw that the group was small, the pupils in it belonging to various years, but all sporting silver and green. Draco recognised them as the muggleborns who usually attempted to avoid the attention of those like Draco Malfoy.

"We wanted to thank you," one of the older ones - maybe a year younger than Draco - said.

"Thank me?" Draco cocked his head.

"Only," a younger one continued, "What you said to that Parkinson girl last night was... well, it was amazing. Really."

A first year coloured in the cheeks as he shyly added, "I didn't get bothered even once by the purebloods in my dorm after you did that."

A murmur of agreements ran through the small group, and Draco forced a small smile, though it was weak.

He hummed softly, "you're welcome."

The group sat by him, but they said nothing to him, leaving him to his book. And that was how events continued for the following days, and perhaps it was their plan to make Pansy's snide suggestion become true. Nobody made conversation with the blue haired boy, but at mealtimes, and evenings in the common room, Draco could be found indulging in his library book. And around him, sat the group of Slytherin muggleborns, using a Slytherin-worthy united front against the rest of the house to support him.


	6. Chapter 5

A forced huff of breath left Draco's lips as he closed his book. This was now the third time he had finished it. For the mot part, this was because he had really enjoyed the book, and not reading it again to find foreshadowing hidden by ignorance seemed like a crime. But there was also a small part of him that knew it was because he was scared of what he'd planned to do when he'd finished it.

On the inside cover was the italicised script of names of the students who had borrowed this particular book from the library. Or rather, name. Singular. Of course, his name was the last on the list, but apart from that, only one name had been written. Over and over.

Hermione Granger.

Draco had to admit it, it had shocked him at first. He knew Granger enjoyed reading, but for the longest time had thought her only to be interested in non-fiction books, for informational purposes only. It was a stereotypical assumption, sure, but he knew even her fellow Gryffindors would have similar ones. But he guessed he also had to thank this revelation, because without it, he wouldn't have come up with this extra plan that theoretically would make his end goal's success considerably more likely. It was just how to go about it that had him stumped. Granger was always with Potter and Weasley. He couldn't very well just go up to her and strike up a conversation with them there. It would not only look suspicious, but also likely end with a curse sent his way by Weasley before he'd even got a sentence out. 

Then, one breakfast - still surrounded by the muggleborns - Draco cracked the book open again dejectedly, absent-mindedly wondering if it would work to write a note and leave it in the book for Granger to find. But he figured that relied too much on luck and routine. For one, just because Granger took the book out so frequently, didn't mean somebody else wouldn't take it out after him before she had the chance. For another, Madam Pince might find the note and dispose of it. The plan was not a good one.

Through his thinking, Draco almost managed to miss the perfect opportunity that presented itself to him, in the form of Granger leaving the Great Hall without Potter and Weasley flanking her. Draco waited anxiously for a few moments, before grabbing his thinks and following her, though being sure to make his pace leisurely so as not to make it obvious that that was what he was doing. He had to admit she walked fast though. Once out of the Hall he had to speed up considerably to catch up. Amazingly, the Gryffindor didn't hear him coming, until his footfells fell in time with hers beside her. She almost tripped in shock.

"Malfoy." she deadpanned, stopping in the middle of the corridor.

"Granger." he greeted in return, his tone much politer than hers.

This caught her off guard too.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I thought maybe... only, I took this out," he held up the book - she hadn't noticed it before, "and I saw that you're the only other person to have taken it out. You must like it."

The girl seemingly couldn't help but smile, and she nodded.

"Yes. I love it." She paused for a moment, chewing on her lip before regarding him with a careful gaze, "What did you think of it?"

Draco beamed, "Oh, I loved it too. What was your favourite part? Mine was when they found that - you know the vampire and-"

"And she'd been isolated so long she barely understood any modern advances." she nodded enthusiastically, "Yeah, I liked that - funny. However, my favourite bit was probably the part with that huge rock fall."

"But that's where one of them dies."

"Where two of them die," she corrected, "remember, because the girl was attacked, because she was trying to tell the others that the guy in the rock fall was actually innocent."

"Ah yes! Because they all thought he was a traitor. And it's really frustrating because, you know that-"

"But the characters don't!" Granger finished.

The two laughed for a moment before silence fell, and the Gryffindor seemed to realise again who she was talking to. Her smile faded, though didn't completely disappear, and Draco was thankful for that.

"I'm sorry." he apologised sheepishly.

Granger shot him a confused look, but her eyes still blazed with shock so he knew the apology was still needed. Though he had known that before the look she gave him.

"For a lot of things actually. Calling you a- a- a you-know-what. For berating your love for knowledge; it's obviously not a bad thing. Just for being a tosser basically. But I'm also sorry for coming up and randomly starting a conversation as though those things didn't need to be addressed. Common interest in a book is an interesting thing to talk about - but not so randomly to a person who would want nothing to do with me, and I wouldn't blame them."

The bushy-haired female chewed her lip contemplatively, turning over his apology in her head. Draco could only appreciate that she was giving it any real thought at all, rather than immediately brushing him off.

"You should never have called me that," she concluded, watching Draco nod solemnly, "but word has gotten around that you stood up to Pansy Parkinson about calling the muggleborns that. That's why all those Slytherin kids, from different years have been sitting around you at mealtimes, right?"

Draco nodded again, "Yeah, I guess. We don't really talk to each other, but- and they do it in our common room too."

"As far as I'm concerned, Malfoy-"

"Draco." the blonde interrupted, his tone soft, but holding conviction.

Granger nodded, "Draco. Far as I'm concerned, it's forgotten. I won't hold it against you, if you're really trying to change."

Draco could barely hold back him grin, but collected himself, and with a simple, if slightly wide, smile, held the book out to her.

"I assume you'll be wanting this."

"Can't imagine how you'd know that." Granger - or maybe Hermione was permitted now - smiled back.

Draco shrugged, "Just a hunch."


	7. Chapter 7

Draco had to wait for a few days before he could really do anything else, but most of him didn't really care much. He thought a few days off would do him good. He already had a lot to deal with with everything else he'd done so far. Professor Snape was still giving him Hell in Potions, and he'd hit more than a few nerves over the course of the week. He'd dealt with even more unannounced charms sent his way trying to understand why his hair was still blue, until finally, someone had put a halt to it by outing the (correct) rumour that he'd used muggle hair dye. After that, he just got wisps of unbelieving conversations that Draco Malfoy would ever touch anything muggle with a stick, let alone permanently alter his hair colour using muggle inventions. It was everything Draco had not to scream in frustration, like it was so hard to believe that through all these changes people were still hooked on his act against muggles and anything less than pure blood. It pissed him off the say the least, and if only to stop him lashing out, he'd begun a list of muggle inventions that he figured the wizarding world should take some inspiration from. He didn't intend to show anyone, but it put his mind at ease.

On top of this, he'd been hearing constant complaints from his Quidditch team, who were still salty that he'd ditched the team. But the fact of his victory kept them at bay from hexing him - he was still getting congratulations for that one. So perhaps it shouldn't have been a surprise of the relief he got when he realised he had to wait until the end of the week before his next course of action. By then, he wasn't being bombarded every minute, and it at least meant he was able to walk across the Hogwarts Grounds in peace, save for only a few glances from Pansy. Draco couldn't comprehend why she looked so sad, for Pansy rarely got sad, but neither said a word to one another. He had to admit it was sort of weird though. Both walking to the same place, yet several yards apart, and refusing to be caught looking at one another. Pansy was many things that Draco had disagreed with silently over the years, but she hadn't known that; she'd had no way to know that. But despite it all, she had always been his best friend. Crabbe and Goyle had rather been goonies than actual friends, considering they didn't really say much and were positively horrific at holding a civilised, and interesting conversation. But Pansy could do that, same as she could also prat around, and it was with her that Draco had had some of the best times of his life. It was with her he'd spent countless late nights just talking, curling up together on the sofa at 3am, and just venting anything and everything they needed to to one another. Draco was certain he knew most, if not all of Pansy Parkinson's secrets, and she definitely knew most of his. It was in neither of their best interests to expose the other however, so Draco could be sure that even if they never spoke to one another again, she wouldn't tattle.

Of course, Draco hoped, and would continue hoping that they would speak again. He couldn't bear not being close to her, but at this moment in time, with what he had been doing, he just didn't have the strength or willpower to be around her when he had publicly admitted that their opinions were entirely opposites. He missed her, that would more than likely be clear to her, but if it was, she was too upset to mention it. Or maybe she felt the same? Draco hoped so. He didn't want to be the only one feeling so pathetic that he had lost his absolute best friend. It didn't matter that maybe them, and the rest of Slytherin house were the only ones to know that Draco and Pansy were actually capable of having best friends, because what was their opinion when so many of them still judged Draco for actually embracing muggle inventions. Nothing. Their opinion on his friendship was nothing, because their friendship would surely make Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley look like acquaintances. It was Pansy Parkinson who had been the first to find out that Draco found himself heavily more attracted to males, and she had yet to babble that secret, despite her ever proven role as notorious rumour planter. Hell, it was Pansy Parkinson that had helped Draco even realise his orientation. At some point, albeit a time Draco now tried to forget, he had managed to convince himself that he was totally and completely in love with a girl. He still wasn't sure what exactly it was that had enticed the girl to say yes to a date, but it had excited Draco as much as it terrified him. In a last panic the night before, he had practically begged Pansy to help him because he had no idea how to kiss someone, and a Malfoy could not be a terrible kisser. It was against the law or something. Pansy, being Pansy, had been the absolute best person to go to, and Draco's first kiss had been about as good as you could expect when it involved two kids who had never kissed anyone other than their parents in their entire lives. Not. Good.

Draco had been so disinterested by the date the following day, even Pansy's joke about him being madly in love with her now was lost on him, and any joke following for the next three days in fact. And then, in the middle of the night during one of their 3am conversations, Draco had blurted out that 'actually blokes are rather a lot nicer than girls' and that had only brought them closer.

Malfoys might not cry, but Draco did, and it took rather a lot of effort to wipe his eyes without drawing attention to himself. Being Care of Magical Creatures, he could have blamed it on that, but he didn't have the heart to lie right now.

The lesson was a light one. Meaning, by Draco's standards, not much happened, and he could relax and not have to worry about potentially getting killed. And while Bowtruckles could surely be dangerous if you threatened their tree, Draco figured just standing there would grant him safety. This helped, because he found himself paying such little attention that anything much bigger than the bowtruckles would kill him easily.

His gaze flickered between two spots continuously. Or rather, two people. The first of course being Pansy, who looked about as miserable as he did, staring into space or watching her bowtruckle with a sort of empty fascination, as though she might have found them extremely interesting had it not been for the metaphorical grey cloud that seemed to stretch and hang above the two of them. Maybe if it rained, things wouldn't look so bleak, but Draco wasn't really in the mood to summon actual temporary storm clouds. He didn't need any more attention on him, and not from Pansy. He didn't want to make anything any worse.

The second, was Potter, which was of course no surprise to anybody, ever. Potter hadn't noticed he was being watched though. This also wasn't surprising, considering the boy was beyond oblivious to pretty much everything that went on around him. This was just common knowledge to everybody in the same year as the boy who lived, so Draco thought his chances of being caught were slim. His blue hair was not such a new thing anymore, Potter had stopped staring at that midweek. Draco had not stopped staring at him. He just found himself lucky that Granger and Weasley were so much more interested in their friend than any potential peers watching him also. No matter that he did spend the whole lesson glancing between him, and Pansy. He snapped out of it rather quickly when his classmates began packing up however, but stuck around as they began the trek up the hill from Hagrid's hut. To avoid too much suspicion, he simply acted as though he was simply packing his things away slower than usual.

It worked for most.

The Gryffindor trio said nothing, but each caught Draco's eye as they passed. Of the three, Potter's glance lasted the longest, and he was practically looking back over his shoulder before the gaze broke away. An unsettling feeling settled in the pit of Draco's stomach, but he ignored it, because what importance did a simple glance mean at this point, when he had been avoiding and catching them all week? Perhaps more than he cared to admit, but not enough to melt him.

Once he was the last student in the area, he made a point of clearing his throat quite loudly, though shuffling from one foot to the other awkwardly. Hagrid turned slowly, looking confused, but the expression quickly melted to shock when he saw who it was standing there. Maybe he suspected Potter.

“Malfoy. What can I do fer yeh?”

“Call me Draco, for one?”

It was politely asked, or at least an attempted politeness. Hagrid looked incredibly confused at first but, then just nodded, waiting for the blue haired boy to speak again.

“I came to… well. I know it won't exactly mean much, and I completely understand if it means absolutely nothing to you but… I came to apologise.”

“Apologise?”

“Yeah.” Draco wet his lips, and tried to ignore the dryness of his throat, “I've never been very pleasant to most people, and you really got a lot of that. A lot of what I did was frankly brutal. I never should have condemned your Hippogriff like I did. I should have admitted that I made a mistake, I shouldn't have insulted it.”

“Yeh bowed.” Hagrid pointed out.

“I did. But I was a brat; I know I was. For the record, I have nothing against what you are, and it was cruel of me to act otherwise. And I know, I can't bring the Hippogriff back, and I can't take back things I've said but… I really am sorry, Professor.”

Hagrid all but beamed at the Slytherin, and Draco managed a small smile back. He still felt hesitantly nervous.

“Well, it takes a lot fer someone to admit to their mistakes. I imagine yeh more than most, what with yer-” he cut off as though what he was about to say was inappropriate.

Maybe it was, but it was also true.

“Family.” Draco finished.

Hagrid turned a bright shade of pink, and looked away, an embarrassed expression plastered on his face. Draco thought it best to change the subject, for both of their sakes, and glanced around, trying to think up something else to mention. By the half-giant's feet was a large pile of… something. Foul smelling, and not so appealing to look at either, and it was only now that he noticed the oversized shovel in Hagrid's large hand. Draco had obviously interrupted some task or another.

“What's that?” the student asked.

Hagrid looked down, raising his bushy eyebrows in an expression that looked something between relief, confusion, and the realisation that it was something he still had to deal with.

“Ah… That would be uh…”

To Draco, it looked very much like some creature droppings, but like Hagrid, he couldn’t begin to guess what had left them. It certainly hadn’t been left by anything they had studied in class, so Draco figured he was already not much use here. But still, it seemed a perfect opportunity had once again presented itself to him, and at this point, who was he to deny it?

“Need any help cleaning it up.” he nodded to the shovel.

“I- Well, if yeh don’t mind?”

“‘Course not. Do you have another shovel?”

And maybe Draco had to shrink the shovel slightly. And maybe the mystery dung smelled worse than he had originally thought it could have done. And maybe conversation was either awkward or nonexistent at first. But once the two had become accustomed to the slight weirdness and awkwardness of who it was they were sharing the vicinity with, the atmosphere relaxed, and the two were on comfortable enough terms to engage in small talk and speaking about their days to one another, and the job at hand didn't take the age that Draco had dreaded - just perhaps a few too many hours. And you got used to the smell.

When they were done, Hagrid even invited Draco in for a cup of tea, and though Draco declined, longing for the warmth of the castle, he reassured Hagrid that he'd be honoured to stay for tea on another occasion, maybe when it wasn't quite so late, and not quite so chilly out. Hagrid gave him a smile, a sight Draco never thought could ever be for him, and wished him a good night before letting him off on his way back up to the castle.

The wind nipped harshly at his exposed skin, and the rising moonlight cast silver patterns across the grass as it moved. In the distance, even just the sight of the pitch black lake, it's murky abyss almost waiting for someone to freeze to death in its depths, was enough to make Draco shiver. But none of it could win against the warmth he felt anyway. Deep somewhere inside his chest. It felt like perhaps he was going to vomit, but it was still a pleasant feeling, and one that was hard to explain. He remained with a smile on his face, and although his fingers were painfully numb by the time he reached the castle, he thought maybe this was one of the best days he'd had. And it would be even better once he got a shower.

He came across nobody on his way back to the Slytherin common room, as dinner had not long since finished, most would already be back. Draco couldn't even bring himself to be disappointed that he'd missed dinner, because I'm truth he didn't really feel all that hungry. Or maybe it was just the fear that if he ate, the stench he'd endured for the last few hours really would make him puke. Either way, Draco wasn't upset, and was still smiling to himself when he entered the common room.

It faltered once he was in.

It was mostly empty, but what was the strangest thing, was Pansy Parkinson. Not that she was particularly strange in herself, but that she was sat on the sofa that Draco and the muggleborns had adopted. Again, not exactly too strange in itself, only… the muggleborns were still they. And the lot of them were talking… in a civilised manner.

As Draco approached, the muggleborns dispersed, all giving him a smile as they did so. Until it was just Pansy left sitting there. Draco was cautious as he moved round to sit beside her.

She bit her lip, and looked quite sheepish, and still had that sad, sad look about her. And Draco decided that he didn't like it when she was sad.

“Hi Draco…”

“Hey Pansy.” he returned, “What are you…?”

“You were right.”

“Right?”

And that seemed to be something of a trigger, though Draco couldn't pretend to be sure for what exactly. But Pansy suddenly burst into silent tears. She didn't sob, or sniffle, but tears streamed down her face, and when she spoke, her voice was breathless.

“You were right. About everything. I'm a bully, and I'm needlessly cruel to people who don't deserve it. They're just- they're just people. I'm sorry. I made fun of you for it, and I shouldn't have. I should have looked at it from your point of view. Asked you to help me understand instead of ridiculing everything you were doing just because it scared me. But then you yelled at me, and we stopped speaking, and I realised what you were doing, and why you were so serious. And you've just become such a different person. But a better person. You- you mean so much to me Draco, and I don't want to lose you just because I can't change like you did. I want to. I promise I do. Please help me do it, I don't want to lose you.”

She dissolved into more audible sobs after that, and her body shook as she let her face fall into her hands. Draco was still for a moment, but before he'd realised how quick he'd moved, he had draped himself over her back, and was squeezing her tightly. That was how they sat for a long time - longer than Draco cared to notice - with Pansy crying, and Draco trying to calm his best friend. But any bond that at have broken, or any words that were regretted were mended. That much was obvious, nothing else even had to be said. Pansy had accepted, like Draco had, that what she was doing was not what she wanted to be doing, and wanted to change it. And that was more than good enough for Draco.

Slowly, the two calmed, and their conservation became more like those that usually occurred at 3am, and as tears dried, smiles widened and before long the two were laughing and giggling, and joking around as before. It was 4am before either thought sleep would be a good idea, and Draco made a point of hugging Pansy tightly before they headed towards their respective dorms.

Pansy turned at the last moment.

“Oh Draco. One last thing?”

“Hm?” Draco raised his eyebrows.

Pansy slipped suddenly into a sly smirk; the kind that radiated mischievousness, and Draco was struck by a sudden flash of fear.

“I assume you're aware that you stink of shit.”

She cackled playfully, bounding up the stairs to avoid Draco's jinx.


	8. Chapter 8

In the next Potions class that Draco had with the Gryffindors, Draco 'accidentally' found himself in the last remaining empty seat, which happened to be next to Neville Longbottom. They were revisiting how to make a potion that Draco was particularly practiced in making, while Neville... not so much. If Draco remembered correctly, the last time they had tried this, Neville's potion was amongst the worst, with disastrous results with lasting effects.  
But this time was going to be different.  
Because Draco's placement had not been accidental in the slightest, and either Neville had suspected this, or was simply just rather terrified of him. Draco wasn't sure which, and not sure he cared, because his goal was to change that by the end of the lesson anyway. He let Neville fumble through the note taking, and collect the ingredients, quite clumsily under Snape's scrutinizing gaze, but before Neville could even bring the cauldron to a boil, the Slytherin stopped him.  
"Look, I'm not sat here to torment you."  
"You're not?" Neville raised his eyebrow, and Draco couldn't say he blamed him for being skeptical.  
"No. I'm not." he repeated in reassurance, "I sat here to help you through making it. I also have a few tips that might make things a little easier for you when you're working alone."  
"You're joking," Neville spluttered, "This isn't some horrible joke?"  
Draco shook his head, "No, I mean it."  
"I knew you'd been different lately. You know... the hair, the defiance with Snape, the muggleborns. That sort of thing. But I didn't realise-"  
"I know. It's probably hard to believe, and I don't expect you to believe it right away. That's why I want to prove it. This is one way I'd like to try and do that."  
And it was settled. The two got on with their potion, Draco guiding Neville, and keeping a watchful eye as he made the potion. Draco did barely anything to actually make the potion, leaving Neville to simply follow his vocal instructions. The result was a potion not quite to Draco's usual perfect standards, but it was not explosive or corrosive, and was actually just a little beyond satisfactory - though Snape would never admit that to him. Neville was so overwhelmed with relief, and pride, he didn't say a thing when Draco walked out with him at the end of class, and walked beside him until they reached the steps up to the rest of the castle.  
"Neville..." he began stopping by the wall, so people could, and would pass.  
The other boy turned to look at him, a little confused by the looks of it, but not at all as apprehensive and cautious as he had been at the beginning of the lesson, which was progress in Draco's eyes.  
"I was wondering... without sounding too much like... well, me. I'm rather a lot better at potions than you-" Neville blushed with embarrassment at that, "-and I didn't know if maybe you think you would benefit from tutoring?"  
"That's really... kind, Mal- uh, Draco. But... I doubt you'd find anyone willing to tutor me."  
Draco chewed his lip, "I actually meant about giving them to you myself."  
"Oh."  
He raised his hands, "You don't have to say yes. I get that it might be a bit too soon for you to actually trust anything I have to say. I just thought that if I suggested it, y'know, the offer would be there and you-"  
"Actually I-" Neville interrupted, "I'd really appreciate some tutoring."  
"Really? I-I mean... okay! So, when do you want to start?"  
"Whenever really... might be nice to get something in before our next lesson though."  
Draco nodded absentmindedly, "Alright. Then how about right after classes, we meet in the library? That'll give us more time than if we did it after dinner, and-"  
"Okay." Neville nodded, then with a small, unsure sort of smile, he headed off.  
And Draco couldn't hold back his smile, and wouldn't have been able to even if he tried.  
\---  
After classes, and a quick farewell to Pansy, Draco made his way to the library, after a pit stop to his dorm to pick up anything related to Potions he thought could be useful at all. There would also be a whole range of books at their disposal in the library. He thought that maybe it was weird that he was excited about this, but he couldn't help it. If all went how it should, then this would mean one more person with the knowledge of what he was doing, and why. And maybe Neville, being a Gryffindor himself, would be a big enough step that it finally wouldn't be seen as a trick or a temporary thing. That's what he hoped at least.  
He wasn't waiting long before Neville showed up, and his hair made him easily noticeable that the blonde boy spotted him immediately. He too had brought his Potions gear, and Draco was glad that Neville seemed keen to get right on with the tutoring, and the two worked at a good pace through their books, Draco explaining parts of recipes he didn't understand so he could jot notes in the margins of his notes, and showed him his own Potions books so Neville could copy the notes in his own textbook's margins.  
"How do you know all these little tips? And why do you write in the books, Hermione would go ballistic."  
"Well, I payed for the books, or rather my parents did, and they're quite happy to let me scribble all over them so long as I can prove that it helps in my learning. As for the tips, Potions is just a forte of mine," he reddened slightly, not wanting to seen like he was showing off, "That, and Snape is my Godfather. When I was younger, if I ever had to stay with him for any reason, I'd always bug him to show me how to make Potions, or let me read his books."  
"That definitely explains it," Neville mumbled.  
"A lot of these notes I found in his books to begin with so, you can be sure that they'll work."  
"Oh, I'll bet." Neville allowed a small laugh, before bowing his head to begin scribbling away.  
They worked right up until dinner, and Neville didn't seem as eager to rush off as Draco had imagined.  
"Can we do this again?" The Gryffindor asked, "Only, it actually really helped, and if it helps me improve, you know?"  
"Yeah, of course. It'd be my pleasure. Any times specifically? I can do pretty much any time, any day that isn't class or after curfew."  
"I say we stick to after classes until dinner. If that's okay?"  
"Sounds great."  
And thus a routine began. Every day after classes, the two would meet and work on Potions. Before long, the two had taken to working for a few hours at weekends as well, and as they finished looking through notes and textbooks, so they moved out into the courtyard where possible, and began working on the practical side of things, making some of the easier, or shorter Potions. Within only a matter of weeks, Neville was beginning to show impressive improvement in classes, to the point where Snape was getting confused when there were nowhere near as many negative things for him to point out about Neville's potions. Draco simply gave him discreet smiles and thumbs up in these situations, and Neville always smiled back. Always.  
Soon, their time in the library also became time for them to complete their homework, which they mainly did individually, but would often talk about various topics as they worked. Overall, it was rather a nice atmosphere, and Draco all but cried in joy when Neville quietly admitted that he was starting to think of Draco as a friend, and was so incredibly grateful for the help.  
But one day, the atmosphere changed.  
Neville was absolutely the same as he had been for the whole period, but as he had entered the library, so had Potter and his friends. They had sat a little bit away, but Neville had seemed tense, and began making silly mistakes as they ran through a Potion they were being tested on the following week, Draco figured it couldn't be coincidence.  
"You had this down last week. Are you okay?"  
"I'm fine." Neville gave a pathetic attempt at a smile.  
"It's because they're here isn't it?" Draco subtly pointed to the trio with a nod of his head.  
Neville didn't answer for a moment, and Draco almost wished he hadn't asked. Maybe he wasn't quite allowed to ask that sort of thing so freely just yet, and it was understandable. He was about to apologise for asking, and suggest they move on when Neville answered, and didn't seem the slightest bit bothered to be doing so.  
"Yeah..." he admitted. "I told them not to come. It was Ron more than the other two. He was concerned that you couldn't have actually been the reason I've been doing so good in Potions lately because you're-" he reddened and shut up abruptly.  
Draco steeled himself for the worst, "Because I'm what?"  
Neville didn't meet his eyes, "Because you're 'racist scum' and 'too much of a git to be so helpful to anyone.' I told him it wasn't true, that you're actually nicer than even the rumours have been saying, and that it really is thanks to you that I'm not so awful anymore. What he said wasn't fair."  
"Actually, I was expected a lot worse," he laughed, and Neville joined in.  
It might have been the laughter that brought over the trio, with a furious looking Ron Weasley in the lead.  
"What is your problem?" he fumed, his face as red as his hair.  
"I don't have a problem."  
"You're such a git Malfoy. Why are you doing this? What do you hope to get out of this bloody charade you're playing?"  
"Well, right now I'm hoping that people will start to see it's not a charade and that maybe there's a lot about Malfoys that nobody knows."  
"Like what?" Hermione asked softly, smiling in a way that Ron wouldn't notice, giving him a chance to do with Ron what he'd done with her and Neville, and make him see.  
"Well, for one, that not all Malfoys are walking stereotypes, and that some might actually want to change and mean it," Hermione nodded to him with a wider smile, so he turned his attention pointedly at Ron, "While some, like my Father for example, are worse than you could imagine, and just so happen to keep a stash of dark objects under the library in Malfoy manor. A stash that if someone - let's say, a Ministry worker - found, would get him into a lot of trouble."  
He had to keep his intense gaze on Ron for a long moment before the boy realised what he was hinting at, and he visibly calmed, his mouth falling open in shock, his ears remaining red, but this time in what seemed like embarrassment. He tried to stutter something out that sounded like an apology, or an understanding, or something but eventually had to give up. He paled, and stammered a quiet 'got to go' before hurrying off. Hermione snickered, and hurried after him, but Harry lingered for a moment. He was looking right at Draco, a confused expression on his face as though he still couldn't understand why Draco was doing this. The Slytherin blushed under the attention, but held Potter's stare until the boy realised what he was doing, shook his head, and hurried off after the other two.  
"I should probably go too." Neville trailed.  
"Ye-yeah. Yeah, go- go ahead. I- um..." he stuttered, making a rush of putting his books away.  
He almost didn't see the sly smirk Neville was giving him.  
"You like him don't you?"  
"Who?" Draco spluttered, going even redder.  
"You know exactly who."  
Draco bit his lip, letting out a low, lingering sigh, and looking down. The heat in his face blurring his vision slightly as he messed with his books, and refusing to meet Neville's eyes. What was the point of lying anymore. To Neville, or to anybody else for that matter. Besides, it wasn't like Neville would tell him. He would know it wasn't the sort of thing that was supposed to be common knowledge until his explicit get go. Wouldn't he?  
He sighed again.  
"Yeah." he muttered, "Yeah, I do."


	9. Chapter 9

"You're going to _what?_ " Pansy spluttered.

"Shut your mouth," Draco hissed, "you heard me well enough."

"Damn right I did. How, may I ask, are you planning to pull that off without drawing attention to yourself?"

"I'm not. I'm actually _expecting_ the attention."

"Of course you are."

Draco huffed, realising, only way to late, that telling Pansy this was absolutely the worst idea he could have possibly had. He would have been better off leaving her to observe with the rest of the student body. But he too just couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Well, if you need the practise again..." Pansy waggled her eyebrows.

"Thanks Pans, but there's this slight issue where you're not a guy."

"You raging homosexual."

"Exactly. Look, it's not that I want the attention like that, I don't. I'd actually much prefer this part of the plan if I could do it without drawing attention to it, but it wouldn't work at all that way. Especially since," he pulled a crumpled letter out of his robes, "My dead father is coming to Hogwarts. He'll be on the staff table tomorrow evening."

"You're doing it _then_?"

"Apparently so."

"You're insane Draco."

"Don't I know it," he hummed distractedly, then suddenly stood, much to Pansy's confusion, and hurried towards the doors to the Great Hall, where students were entering in spatters. "Luna! Hey, Luna."

The whimsical blonde turned, offering a dreamy smile as Draco dug in his pockets.

"You wouldn't happen to have a copy of the Quibbler on you would you?" he held out a few coins to her, and she smiled just a little wider, pulling a copy from a thick pile she had stuffed in her bag.

"You don't have to pay me for it Draco Malfoy."

"I want to." he returned, taking the tabloid, and pressing the coins into her palm.

"I don't really care if people are still confused. You are different."

And with that she turned to enter the Great Hall, and Draco turned, smile on face, to go back over to sit beside Pansy on the staircase outside.

"You're joking. The Quibbler?"

"Ah-" he raised an eyebrow, "Supporting fellow students on one side. And on the other side, don't knock it til you try it. You'll find it doesn't deserve the whack it gets from people. And it's interesting."

"I'll take your word for it. Look, what are we even doing here right now? We could be eating."

Draco rolled his eyes cracking open the paper, and scanning the contents, leaving those about creatures for now, and looking mostly for the more serious things. The things that the Prophet had decided they weren't going to report on. He flicked through a couple of articles, but upon finding nothing of much interest, he closed it, and set it on his lap.

"We could be. But I need to talk to someone."

"Who?"

And just at that moment, the Gryffindor trio came round the corner, jabbering away about something or other. Or at least, Ron and Hermione were, Harry was strangely quiet.

"Hey, Weasley."

Ron turned with a momentary flash of anger, before obviously remembering himself.

"Draco," he greeted curtly.

"I just wanted to say, about anything I said before about my dad-"

"I already sent a letter to my dad." he interrupted sharply, clearly thinking Draco was trying to back away.

"Good. I just thought you'd be interested to know that my Father is going to be here tomorrow, in time for dinner at least. So if anybody was, y'know, wanting to search Malfoy Manor, tomorrow would be the best time for them to do it. And if that was the case, that I could probably convince my mother to go out for a while, she could use the change."

Ron's face softened again, and he almost sighed, giving a small smile that Draco almost thought was a trick his eyes were playing on him.

"Thanks," he smiled wider, "And good idea. About your mum."

Then, with a slight skip in his step, Draco noticed, Ron headed off into the Great Hall, Hermione at his heels, snickering under her breath. But once again, Harry stuck behind, and this time Draco leant back nonchalantly on the steps, radiating the same vibes as Pansy - confidence.

"What can I do for you Potter?"

"Nothing." he said quickly, going red, "Nothing, I-"

He went to hurry off, but Draco stopped him.

"Only I keep catching you staring at me, or staying behind after I've spoken to one of your friends. I'm not going to bite, or attack once their backs are turns. I had my fair share of time as a ferret."

Harry couldn't help but laugh at that one, but went redder when he remembered Draco was still there.

"Laugh it up. Really."

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I just... look, I just don't understand. Years of being a complete brat, and now? Now it's like your a completely different person, and I just can't get to grips with it. I'm not meaning to stare. Or embarrass you."

"Not every asshole is an irredeemable jerk. You should go catch up with those two."

Harry turned to go, but faltered and turned back momentarily.

"It's good that you're trying to change. I like you better like this."

Draco could feel the heat swelling in his face, even before Pansy pointed it out with a cackle. He just elbowed her away, trying to hide his face.

\---

Draco made a point of being anywhere but the obvious places when he heard news that his father had arrived to Hogwarts the next day. He had sent an owl to his mother than morning, and gotten a rather swift reply, reassuring him that she would be out of the manor when the ministry officials arrived to search the premisis. After that it was just a case of waiting. But he didn't want to see his father. No doubt he would have some lecture prepared, and right now, it wouldn't matter in Lucius Malfoy's head if he had to wait until after dinner, because he was in the dark with everything regarding Draco's plans. He just had to make it until then. After that, it would be fine because whatever he had to say right now would be replaced in the light of what he would do. Besides, if all went well, Lucius wouldn't have much time after that before the ministry came for him. And Narcissa had already told Draco that she would happily expose what she knew should the ministry ask her about the dark artifacts they would no doubt find soon enough. Draco had smiled at that; he couldn't help it. He would stand by his mother.

But first he had to get through this day.

No doubt his father would be looking for him, and he really had been dreadfully underprepared for this whole thing. He'd been doodling most of the early afternoon, since after finishing what little homework he had left to complete, it was all he was really able to do. He wished he'd brought a book or something, but the library was too much of a common spot for students, that it would be just his look to show up there just as his father went looking for him there. The common room was absolutely out of the question of course, and it was a shame too, because he was sure he had all sorts of things in his trunk that would ease his boredom. He couldn't even meet Pansy anywhere, because should his father follow her, it was a direct path to him. It was honestly quite frustrating.

Salvation came to him in the unlikely form of Neville Longbottom, carrying with him numerous books, and looking quite ruffled.

"Draco? You weren't at the library."

"Shit," he cursed, reddening slightly, "I'm sorry, I totally forgot."

Neville looked confused for a second before coming over to sit beside him, and setting his books to the side.

"You've literally never forgotten this, it was your idea. What's wrong?"

"I meant to tell you, really I did. My father is here, and I'm just trying to avoid him until dinner is all."

"And... I suppose that's why you're sat right around the back of the castle?"

"Apparently so. How'd you find me anyway?"

"Pansy told me."

Draco groaned. He could only imagine how that interaction had gone. He wanted to have faith in Pansy - and in fact, actually should have done - but she was still struggling sometimes. The change had been more difficult for her, because she hadn't been itching to act as such for years, and was doing it purely for him.

"How did that go?"

Neville thought for a moment, and it only made Draco more nervous.

"It was strange actually. She grabbed me as I was heading back to my common room, looking really quite jumpy. Told me where you were really quietly, and just mentioned that you were probably really bored."

Draco sighed, "Well, thank Merlin for that."

"Even if she had been... unpleasant," he chose his words carefully, and Draco wished he wouldn't, "I know she's trying. That you both are. Change can be hard, especially if it's sudden."

"I appreciate you giving us the chance though. We- or more, I didn't really do much to deserve it."

"That's not true. You started changing without the expectancy that anybody would care. You changed for you, and when people began to catch on, it just made you more confident to try harder. But you did those first few steps completely alone. That's definitely worth a chance."

Draco gave a single soft laugh, and a mumbled 'thank you' unable to must much else in the relief that filled him. He felt so... accepted, and it didn't feel false. It was real, and it felt better than Draco ever could have imagined it to feel, and coming from someone who had every right to hate him anyway, it felt even better.

"If you don't mind me asking though... why are you avoiding your dad?"

Draco laughed a little louder, "Well, first off because he'd a bit of a dick. But mainly because I don't need him lecturing me before dinner, because I'm kind of going to give him something else to worry about."

"And what's that?"

Draco felt his cheeks warm up, but barely paused, telling the other boy his plan. It was quite simple really, and he trusted Neville to not tell anybody - they were comfortably at that point now.

"You- you're going to- you- _what?"_

"Is it too much?"

"No! No, no! I just mean... does _he_ know?"

"Nope... I figure I'm safe so long as he doesn't slap me... right?"

"He won't slap you." Neville replied.

Something about the way Neville said it made Draco think he was missing out on something. And suddenly, Draco was even more nervous.

\---

"Speaking as your friend," Pansy began, "You just need to get over yourself and go do it. Because if you don't, you'll chicken out, and miss your chance. And wouldn't that be a disaster?"

"Absolutely."

"Then do it."

"Okay. Okay, okay. But you should probably go in. Like now, and I'll follow in a minute."

Pansy didn't say anything, or move few a moments, and though Draco wasn't looking at her, he could tell she was looking at him. He could feel her eyes on him, scanning him for any sign that he might be preparing to split, and pretend he'd never come up with this plan in the first place. But if Pansy really thought nerves would stop him from this opportunity he'd presented himself with, then he could gurantee she had zoned out during his lovesick rambles.

"When you come in, I'm going to shut everbody up."

"No, Pans-"

But Pansy had already stalked off into the Great Hall, and Draco hated it, but it really did feel like a now or never moment now. He couldn't begin to guess how Pansy was expecting to shut everybody up, but he imagined it would be worse the longer he waited before going in. And so, with a well needed inhale of breath, shaky as it was, he made his way into the Hall.

As it turned out, Pansy's methods were not as traumatic as he had expected. The whole of the Slytherin table immediately fell silent, and without a quarter of the noise, many of the other tables quieted too, so there were still large amounts of people talking but it was quiet enough that those who had shut up were bigger in numbers, and had their attention trained solely on Draco. Draco, meanwhile, was looking up at the staff table, where he saw his father looking stone faced, and still, sat next to Snape, but also Ron's father who looked a mix between excited and impatient. Draco didn't have to guess too much to understand why he was here, but why they were _still_ here was the apparent mystery. But right now, that was not his main issue, and the longer he stayed hovering by the entrance of the Great Hall, the more people were turning to look at him, and it wasn't the most pleasant feeling, having most of the eyes in the room trained on you, so with another forced breath, Draco put his plan into action.

He stalked forward, away from his own house's table, and instead walking down the length of the Gryffindor table, trying to ignore the gazes boring into him. He moved down the table until he reached where the trio sat, and turning anxiety into adrenaline, Draco didn't miss a beat, stopping right beside the boy who lived, gripping fistfuls of his robes, pulled him up high enough for Draco to engage him in a searing kiss.

What could only have been seconds seemed like hours, as it hit him full force just exactly what it was he was doing here. He was kissing Harry Potter. Well... actually, kissing might have been a little but of an understatement considering the emotion behind it. A kiss made Draco think of a quick connect of lips and that was it. Whatever this was... was so much more powerful. More powerful than he could comprehend, and he wasn't entirely sure he knew how he'd achieved it. But he had, and here he was kissing the Hell out of the Chosen One, in front of his friends. In front of his house. In front of his own house, and Pansy. In front of the Professors who had witnessed their rivalry since year one. In front of his father, who he could only imagine the look his face must have been displayed. He couldn't look. He didn't want to look. The seconds came back to him in a burst, and he realised the best part about all of this through a small whisper of a breath. Yes, indeed he was snogging Harry fucking Potter, of all people, and that was... amazing, really. But the best part?

Harry was kissing him back.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco really had thought that he'd prepared himself for every outcome. But as it turned out, nothing could quite have prepared him to see his father kept in his seat by a firm hand on his shoulder, and another Ministry Official stood behind his seat, obviously saying something, but nothing that Draco could make out. He had a couple good guesses though, when his father suddenly was on his feet,, hand still on his shoulder, and with a glare in Draco's general direction, was lead from the hall. Everything was silent now, or maybe it wasn't, but Draco could only hear the ringing in his ears, and wasn't quite sure what everybody's attention was on now. Him? His father? Or maybe just the situation as a whole. But whatever it was, Draco was paying little attention to that, and more on the fact that he was feeling rather unsteady, as though he would topple at any moment.

What had he done? Damned his father to god knows how long in Azkaban - most likely the rest of his life given the evidence against him. And Draco knew it was the right thing, when looking at  the big picture, but that was still his dad. With a sudden jolt in his stomach, Draco turned and left the Hall.  In his hurry he didn't see Hermione pushing Harry, trying to get him to go after him, and he was out of earshot before Pansy stood up on her bench, and yelled.

"Harry Potter, he just kissed the Hell out of you, get your sorry ass after him, damnit!"

Thankfully, when Draco finally stopped, the wave of nausea stopped, and he didn't have to worry about throwing up all up in the corridor. But it was in this moment that he realised that while the shock of his father being taken away had been a sudden crashing feeling weighing on him, he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Did that make him a bad person? After everything he'd done to try and be a better person, and change who everybody thought he was, was it now ruined because he wasn't feeling guilty for condemning his father? Shouldn't he have felt bad? Shouldn't good people feel guilty for another's unfortunate fate, even if they maybe deserved said fate? He wasn't sure, but the fact of the matter just happened to be that he couldn't change it. That was it, and everything was over now. He had no other specific people he wanted to change the opinions of in regards to him, and he had seen the end to his ideas, without getting slapped, but now he had no idea what he was supposed to do.

Carry on being a better person, of course, but without the specific ideas, how long would anybody else believe it was for good? Would they go back to disliking him, thinking the whole thing was some sort of elaborate prank?

Maybe he hadn't thrown up, and that was good, but Draco thought hyperventilating still wasn't exactly what he would have opted for but apparently he didn't have that choice.

"Draco." A voice sounded, and Draco whirled round, dizzying himself slightly.

"Potter." He sputtered, "I- I mean... Harry?"

Could he call him that? He had called him Draco but... he wasn't sure if it was a two way sort of thing at this point? He had just very randomly kissed him.

Oh shit... was this the moment he'd get that frankly rather deserved slap?

"You kissed me." Harry said, and Draco almost burst out laughing at the sheer obvious nature of the statement.

Draco resisted a shrug but gave back an equally obvious response.

"You kissed me back."

"Well, yeah," Harry scuffed the toes of his shoes against the floor, "I figured if I was going to be a pawn in your plans, I might as well have fun with it."

"What?" Draco asked and he hated how suddenly broken his voice sounded, as his shoulders slumped.

"Well, I thought-"

"You thought I'd use you? Like that? Really, Potter?"

"You weren't?"

"No! No, that's awful! I would never."

"Then why...?"

"I admit, I should have warned you, told you what I was planning, but that's... that's..." Draco frowned, not meeting Harry's eyes and mild anger bubbling under his skin.

"I'm sorry." Harry reddened, "I'm sorry, I-"

But Draco blurted out before Harry even had a chance to finish his sentence, "I kissed you because I like you. Because I've liked you for years to the point of bordering insanity. Because all I've ever wanted was to be able to call you my friend, and to do that I knew I needed to change."

"You-" Harry blinked, and shook his head lightly, "my friend?"

"Yeah, since first year. You were there. The alternative is just-" he shook his head, "did I- did I succeed?" he held out his hand for Harry to potentially shake.

It took a few moments for Harry to take it. And in those moments, Harry seemed to be thinking, though Draco couldn't pretend to know what about. But Harry took his hand, then proceeded to pull Draco towards him, engaging him in a kiss much like the one Draco had given him. And Draco didn't have time to be shocked, or surprised, before he was kissing back, deciding to Hell with the consequences, and he could deal with those later. This time was not his doing, and it had been Harry very eagerly initiating it, and Draco figured that even if it turned out to be the worst decision of his life, he couldn't help himself, because this time wasn't a planned cog in a calculated plan. This time was whatever Harry wanted it to be, and Draco couldn't think of any other scenario he'd prefer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry that it's so short but I'm uh, drunk and I have other stuff I need to write. I hope you enjoy it anyway though. My plan in spent now, so if you guys have any ideas on how you want this to carry on, I'm open to ideas. Otherwise it may just be something random to finish it up you know? So let me know of anything you may want. As always, I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> \- Jupiter x


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